BIOLOGY AND

CONSERVATION OF

RIDLEY SEA TURTLES

Edited by PAMELA T. PLOTKIN

THE JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY PRESS

Baltimore

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© 2007 The Johns Hopkins University Press All rights reserved. Published 2007 Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper

9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2

The Johns Hopkins University Press 2715 North Charles Street Baltimore, Maryland 21218-4363 www.press.jhu.edu

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Biology and conservation of ridley sea turtles / edited by Pamela T. Plotkin.

p. em. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN-13: 978-0-8018-8611-9 (hardcover: alk. paper) ISBN-1O: 0-8018-8611-2 (hardcover: alk. paper) 1. Lepidochelys. 2. Wildlife conservation.

1. Plotkin, Pamela T., 1962­QL666.C536B55 2007 597.92'8--dc22 2006027168

A catalog record for this book is available from the British Library.

Photo credits: Chapter opening art courtesy of SeaPics.com. All photographs are by Doug Perrine except those for Chapters 4 (Carlos Villoch / V & W), 10 (Robert L. Pitman), 12 (Peter C. H. Pritchard), and 13 (Lisa Ballance).

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LISA CAMPBELL

2 Understanding Human Use of Olive Ridleys Implications for Conservation

OLIVE RIDLEY SEA TURTLES (Lepidochelys olivacea) are used widely by humans, on land and at sea, and the implications for olive

ridley populations are considered in Chapters 12 and 13 of this book. Here I consider the context of olive ridley use, that is, its economic, political, so­cial, and cultural aspects, and is based on published and unpublished results by researchers working in a variety of disciplines. Although understanding the context of use is increasingly recognized as important, there is relatively little published research related to sea turtles (Campbell, 2003). Here re­search is distinguished from project descriptions or reports that reflect on the context of sea turtle use rather than the study of the subject.

The purpose of this chapter is to (1) highlight some of the socioeconomic research on olive ridley use and, in so doing, draw attention to the contri­butions from a variety of social science disciplines and (2) look for common themes arising from what is most often site-specific research, which may in­form attempts to conserve olive ridleys and sea turtles more generally. The chapter does not attempt to assess whether olive ridley use is biologically sustainable but rather considers economic, political, social, and cultural as­pects of use that influence human response to conservation programs, be they designed to ensure use is sustainable or to eliminate use altogether.

The definition of conservation adopted in this chapter is that of the World Conservation Union: "the management of human use of organisms

23

,, 24 LISA CAMPBELL

or ecosystems to ensure such use is sustainable. Besides sustainable use, conservation includes protection, maintenance, rehabilitation, restora­tion, and enhancement of populations and ecosystems" (IUCN, 1980). In this definition, sustainable use is considered a legitimate com­ponent of a conservation strategy, and an as­sumption in this chapter is that if use is to be sus­tainable, the human context of it must be fully understood. In only one of the case studies dis­cussed is there some agreement that use might be biologically sustainable (egg collecting at Ostional, Costa Rica), and biological sustainabil­ity will ultimately influence whether humans can or will continue to derive benefits from such use. The issues are clearly linked, however, and should biologically sustainable extraction rates be identified, then social, economic, political, and cultural issues will determine whether these rates will be respected by resources users. Thus, although this chapter considers only part of the use equation, it is an important part.

The IUCN definition of conservation is not shared by all sea turtle biologists, and the idea that turtles can be used consumptively in a sus­tainable manner, as opposed to nonconsump­tively-for example, via tourism-has been a controversial one in the IUCN Marine Turtle Specialist Group (Campbell, 2002). The possibil­ities for use are different for olive ridleys than for other sea turtle species for two reasons. First, the olive ridley is the most abundant of all sea turtle species (Pritchard, 1997a). Second, some olive ridley populations have mass nesting behavior and gather to nest in the thousands in what are referred to as anibadas (see Bernardo and Plotkin, Chapter 4). On arribada nesting beaches, high nesting densities and related high levels of egg loss can justify egg collections; if eggs are not harvested, they are likely to be destroyed by later nesters. At sea, turtles aggregating for arribadas off the Pacific coast of Mexico were legally fished until 1990, with their dense con­centrations making fishing relatively efficient (high catch rates per unit effort). Although few biologists would consider the capture of repro­ductively active females to be consistent with conservation, egg collecting on arribada beaches has received some support (Mrosovsky, 1983; Pritchard, 1984; Cornelius et aI., 1991; Mrosovsky, 1997,2001).

This chapter focuses on olive ridleys nesting in or aggregating offshore for arribadas (with one exception) at various locales in Latin Amer­ica (including Suriname). The justification for this focus is twofold. First, although a second ridley species, Kemp's ridley (Lepidochelys kem­pii), is also known to nest in arribadas, the small numbers of Kemp's ridleys and their critically endangered status make it inappropriate to com­pare conservation options for Kemp's and olive ridleys. Furthermore, whereas Kemp's ridleys were exploited historically, existing nesters are protected, and human use of them is prohibited. Second, although olive ridleys nest in arribadas in other regions (and a particularly large aggrega­tion nests in Orissa, India), the Latin American focus reflects the interests and expertise of the au­thor and the geographic focus of the majority of published research on the human context of use.

The chapter is structured around case studies, the approach taken in most existing research. As a result, the descriptions below sometimes rely heavily on one piece of work, and basic infor­mation on methods used in the work is provided to the reader. There is an imbalance in the treat­ment of specific cases, based on the extent of the research conducted and its accessibility. For ex­'ample, research published in graduate theses is described in more detail than that available in more readily accessible publications. The final section of the chapter outlines some of the com­mon themes or lessons that emerge from the case studies.

Mexico: Economics of Turtle Fishing and Egg Collecting

Historically, olive ridley turtles nested in arri­badas at several beaches along the Pacific coast of Mexico. Egg use has been illegal in Mexico since 1927, but use of olive ridley turtles was legal until 1990 (Trinidad and Wilson, 2000). Turtles were taken for both meat and leather, and there has been research on the impacts of harvesting on population numbers and responses since tur­tle capture was banned in 1990 (Marquez-M. et aI., 1996; Ross, 1996; Godfrey, 1997; Pritchard, 1997b). Although many of the beaches no longer host arribada nesting, the phenomenon contin­ues at Escobilla, Oaxaca, and illegal use of both

25

eggs and turtles is believed to be widespread. From 1995 to 1998, the Mexican enforcement agency, Procuraduria Federal de Protecci6n al Ambiente (PROFEPA), seized approximately 1,000-8,000 kg of turtle meat, 100-1,800 units of turtle leather, and several hundred dead and live whole turtles each year in Oaxaca (species not specified). In the same period, approximately 300,000-600,000 turtle eggs were seized each year (Trinidad and Wilson, 2000). It can be as­sumed, given enforcement constraints described below, that these figures reflected only a portion of the actual take.

Trinidad and Wilson (2000) considered the economics of egg and turtle use in Mexico and its legislative context. They argued that tradi­tional economic models for understanding ille­gal activities, both outside the legal fishery when it existed and generally since the ban, are in­sufficient. Such models are based on theories of crime and punishment and assume fishermen are "rational, amoral, and apolitical profit maxi­mizers." Rather, Trinidad and Wilson (2000) posed illegal behavior as a result of decoupling the political process of sea turtle conservation from the resource users themselves. To this end, they reviewed changes in legislation over time (for both conservation and industrial develop­ment) "to understand the economic history of the management failure" (Trinidad and Wilson, 2000). They also considered the economic con­text of egg harvesting and constraints on en­forcement activities. Trinidad and Wilson (2000) relied on interviews conducted in the summer of 2000 with fishermen, egg collectors, govern­ment employees, egg and turtle consumers, and researchers (although details on methods-e.g., number of interviews, their structure, methods of data analysis-were not provided). In addi­tion, they reproduced data published by Mexi­can researchers in technical reports to support their argument.

Turtle Fishing

Industrial fishing for turtles on the Pacific coast of Mexico began in the 1960s and focused on the olive ridley. Unlike commercial fishing, which refers to the sale of the products of fishing for cash, industrial fishing refers to large-scale, mechanized operations with centralized slaugh-

Human Use of Olive Ridleys

terhouses and processing plants. These fisher­men worked in cooperatives, and the processing industry was centralized at a slaughterhouse in San Agustinillo. The valued commercial product was olive ridley leather, taken primarily from the flippers. There was considerable waste of other turtle parts, including meat, because of lack of developed markets, and Trinidad and Wilson (2000) suggested that waste was a result of under­selling the full value of the resource to original concession holders. With only a few bidders for concessions, lack of competition meant there were no incentives for efficiency. By 1969, Mexi­can law stipulated that the entire turtle was to be used in exploitation (Cliffton et aI., 1995).

By 1968, many Pacific olive ridley fisheries had dwindled, and Oaxaca remained predomi­nant. Annual take was also declining in Oaxaca, however, which led to the total ban of 1971-1972 and to industry restructuring. From 1973 to 1980 a private firm, Pesquera Industria de Oaxaca (PIOSA), controlled the reopened fishery. The shift to the private sector may have been de­signed to encourage more entrepreneurial man­agement of the resource, as a long-term conces­sion held as a monopoly can encourage more rational use of the resource because the ex­ploiter has exclusive rights to it (Trinidad and Wilson, 2000). PIOSA did make fuller use of the olive ridley (Cliffton et aI., 1995), selling meat for food; bone, blood, shell, and entrails for meal; and calipee for soup, thus decreasing waste. It also protected nesting beaches, an action Cliffton et al. (1995) cited as central to postponing the collapse of the turtle population. However, PIOSA also pressed the government for in­creased quotas, following initial acceptance of decreases, and olive ridley takes continued to dwindle. Trinidad and Wilson (2000) suggested that the terms of the original concession to PIOSA did not take into account the deprecia­tion of the resource. Thus, PIOSA could over­exploit the resource, recover its initial invest­ment, and sell when the industry no longer looked profitable. Indeed, the government pur­chased three PIOSA processing plants in 1980. Trinidad and Wilson (2000) pointed to failing profitability (because of decreased export mar­kets and growing international pressure to stop the turtle fishery) to explain PIOSA's departure from the industry. However, the legal difficulties

'. 26 LISA CAMPBELL

faced by PIOSA owner Antonio Suarez for ex­porting olive ridley meat disguised as river turtle to the United States may also have played a role in the transition. This deception was first ex­posed by Tim Cahill, a journalist, in his article "The Shame of Escobilla" in Outside Magazine in 1978. The article was reprinted and updated in his 1987 bookJaguars Ate My Flesh (Cahill, 1987).

When the government acquired PIOSA's pro­cessing plants, it created an agency, Productos Pesqueros Mexicanos (PROPEMEX), to be re­sponsible for the turtle fishery and sold the fish­ing cooperatives 45% ownership. The coopera­tives' share was to be paid for with turtles sold exclUSively to PROPEMEX. The turtle take con­tinued to decline, and, in 1986, the government attempted to sell the San Agustinillo slaughter­house and an additional processing plant to the cooperatives. Again, debt was to be paid with product (67% of the price of each turtle), and co­operatives were obliged to sell to PROPEMEX. Five cooperatives agreed to this arrangement, but four did not (Trinidad and Wilson, 2000).

Based on interviews with members of one fishing cooperative, and using price data from 1989-1990, Trinidad and Wilson (2000) described the conundrum faced by fishermen. Member­ship in the cooperative went from 80 fishermen at its founding in 1975, to 250 during the peak harvesting years, to 35 by 2000. Although it is not surprising that there are few cooperative mem­bers now that the fishery is closed, decreases in membership began before the total ban was introduced in 1990. Fishing quotas were so low that profits did not cover fishing costs, which forced many members to move from the legal cooperative-based fishery to the illegal one. Fishermen working legally earned approximately 14% of what they could earn illegally in the black market.

Eggs

Turtle eggs have long been an important source of food for coastal peoples in Mexico, includ­ing some indigenous groups. Trinidad and Wil­son (2000) collected basic socioeconomic data and conducted interviews in Escobilla, where illegal egg collecting was evident. For example, in 1988 an estimated 3 million eggs were col­lected illegally, with a value to collectors of

US$64,430 (and an estimated final market value of US $1,962,922) (Aridjis, 1990, cited in Trinidad and Wilson, 2000). (All values are in U.S. currency, converted from local currencies by the individual authors at the time of their research.) Trinidad and Wilson argued that the importance of egg col­lecting could be understood in the overall eco­nomic context of the region, where subsistence agriculture was important, there were few cash­earning jobs, and migration for employment was common. Although the income earned in egg col­lecting was significant, acaparadores received the most benefits. (Acaparadores derives from the verb acaparar, meaning "to monopolize." In this con­text, it refers to middlemen who buy eggs directly from collectors and resell them to distributors. In fact, the existence of many collectors and fewer buyers implies a monopsony rather than a mo­nopoly) These intermediaries paid egg collectors only after eggs were sold, and if the eggs were con­fiscated, collectors were unpaid. Villagers in Esco­billa coordinated themselves to collect and sell eggs and took their own risks of injury and arrest.

Cahill (1987) relays a local man's description of the egg harvest: local people gather nightly to decide who will collect eggs, and 10 people are chosen to work in pairs. His informant was cho­s~n to work four times that year and made about US$300 to supplement his main income from growing corn (US$500), all of which supports a family of 10. At the time Cahill was there (late 1970s), a driver transporting eggs could make up to US$4000 per shipment. The differences in Cahill's and Trinidad and Wilson's (2000) de­scriptions of the harvest may be accounted for by the time difference, who they collected the information from, or site-specific differences in collection practices. Cahill, a journalist, ac­knowledges that his description is based on a conversation with one egg collector, whereas Trinidad and Wilson interviewed an unspecified number of people in Escobilla.

Because egg collection was illegal, it was diffi­cult for collectors to organize to demand better prices and treatment from acaparadores. Trini­dad and Wilson (2000) found that egg collecting was practiced mainly by women and children, although youths were often involved before the school year to earn money for fees and supplies. To sell the eggs sometimes required transporta­tion, which increased chances of discovery and

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decreased individual profit. If alternatives were available, villagers said they would harvest eggs only for home consumption.

In considering why turtle fishing and egg collecting have continued in spite of extensive legislative commitments, Trinidad and Wilson (2000) drew a number of conclusions, some rel­evant to turtles or eggs and others to both. All concerned the incentives for individuals to disre­gard the laws surrounding turtle use and the in­ability of the government to enforce such laws.

First, economic incentives for illegal harvest­ing were strong in both cases. In terms of turtle fishing, however, the contradictions between government policies for conservation and devel­opment had the consequence of increasing in­centives to act illegally. As the olive ridley fishery appeared destined to fail because of falling catch rates and increased external opposition to the harvest, ownership was increasingly transferred to fishermen. Rather than reduce dependence on the turtle fishery, the government increased the cooperatives' stakes in it. Thus, when the fishery closed in 1990, the cooperatives had much to lose (the private sector having recouped its investment and disappeared). In this context, it is less surprising that the ban was resisted.

Second, alternatives to both egg collecting and turtle fishing did not materialize. Both fish­ermen and egg collectors cited the lack of alter­native economic activities as a reason they con­tinued to operate illegally, and egg collectors specifically said they would harvest only for household consumption if viable alternatives existed. One attempt at diversification was through ecotourism. In 1990, the World Bank supported a "campsite" program to develop basic services at arribada beaches with the in­tention of attracting ecotourists. A loan was pro­vided with the aim of seeing campsites become self-sufficient in 7 years, a goal that was not reached. Trinidad and Wilson (2000) suggested further investments in exploring ecotourism as an alternative development strategy

Third, the overall management of the fishing industry has been centralized, and existing social and cultural institutions have been ignored. Centralization has impacts on fishermen. The small number of concessions in the early years and the monopsony held by PIaSA in the 1970s meant buyers held market power over fisher-

Human Use of Olive Ridleys

men. When the government took over, market power was still centralized, and PROPEMEX was designated the only buyer to ensure that cooperatives would repay government loans (Trinidad and Wilson, 2000). Fishermen have been external to most decisionmaking, and they were not consulted on the development and im­plementation of the moratorium. Nor, in 1999, did fishermen or egg collectors attend meetings held in Escobilla to discuss the olive ridley, specif­ically enforcement, alternative economic devel­opment, and the pOSSibility of reintroducing quotas (Trinidad and Wilson, 2000).

Having failed to facilitate alternative eco­nomic activities or to engage resource users in decisionmaking, the government has had to rely on regulatory incentives to pursue conservation. Such centralized enforcement policies may work when costs of enforcement are low and the like­lihood of compliance is reasonable (Trinidad and Wilson, 2000). However, these criteria do not exist in the case of olive ridley use in Mexico. A PROFEPA inspector cited lack of personnel as a key constraint to effective enforcement (six in­spectors, whose concerns are not restricted to turtles, for all of Oaxaca), along with other ad­mini~trative constraints. Furthermore, corrup­tion among government personnel was evident (Trinidad and Wilson, 2000).

In 2000, the Secretaria del Medio Ambiente Recursos Naturales y Pesca (SEMARNAP) pur­sued a legal initiative that would have changed the status of olive ridley protection. The initia­tive encouraged the sustainable exploitation of animals whose life cycles depend on water and provided the means to amend and repeal laws and agreements that prohibit sustainable ex­ploitation. Also in 2000, amendments to the penal code that would remove prison terms for persons engaged in egg collection for subsis­tence, or for satisfYing basic needs, were pro­posed. The proposed changes were "an attempt to provide some relief to members of the coastal communities already hard hit by the bans on tur­tle captures and egg collection" (Trinidad and Wilson, 2000). Although the proposed changes were defeated, and opposition was based on a number of concerns including definitions of subsistence and individual eligibility, the in­crease in olive ridley turtles nesting at Escobilla ensures that pressure to at least partially lift the

28 LIS A CAM P BEL L

ban will continue. Increased nesting will also further affect illegal activities, as they make laws protecting eggs and turtles appear unjust.

Honduras: Economics of Olive Ridley Egg Collecting and Selling

Unlike other case studies considered in this chapter, olive ridley nesting around the Gulf of Fonseca is not in arribada concentrations. Lagueux (1989) estimated that, in 1987, 2,022 nests were laid at 46 beaches around the Gulf and cited earlier studies and interviews with long-time residents to suggest that nesting has never reached arribada levels. In 1987, Lagueux assessed the economic value of olive ridley tur­tle egg collecting by communities around the Gulf of Fonseca (Lagueux, 1989) and evaluated the contribution of egg harvesting to average cost of living in one village, Punta Raton (Lagueux, 1991). She used a variety of data col­lection tools to measure value, including house­hold surveys, interviews with collectors, cost-of­living surveys, and key informant interviews. Lagueux (1989) also assessed commerce in olive ridley eggs, focusing on relationships between egg collectors and sellers, and income earned along the market channel. Methods of data col­lection included interviews with egg sellers and buyers, regular surveys of primary egg buyers, market surveys of egg availability and pricing, and interviews with egg vendors.

Lagueux's (1989, 1991) approach was empiri­cal, focused on describing economic value, with little reference to economic or other theory re­lated to use and conservation of resources. This empirical approach contrasts with that of Trini­dad and Wilson (2000), which relied heavily on existing data and applied economic theory to it. Both approaches offer insight into the respective case studies.

Egg Collecting

Based on a sample of households in seven com­munities, Lagueux (1989) found that the number of households involved in egg harvesting varied from a low of 20% of households to a high of 95%. When interviewees were asked about economic activities, fishing was the most frequently identi­

fied activity for both the rainy and dry season, and egg harvesting was the second most frequently identified rainy season activity. However, even during the rainy season, only 7of 71 household in­terviewees identified it as the most important eco­nomic activity, compared to 35 interviewees iden­tifying fishing. When asked about the perceived benefits of sea turtle eggs, the most frequent re­sponse by household interviewees was that there were no known benefits (28 of 71 interviewees), and 35 interviewees said they would be not be af­fected by the loss of the sea turtle resource.

In her case study of Punta Raton, Lagueux (1991) found that 88% of egg clutches laid at Punta Raton were collected (total eggs collected in 1987 = 63,798), worth the equivalent of ap­proximately US$10,000 to collectors. Collectors from Punta Raton households earned US$7,680 of the total. The remaining US$2,320 was earned by collectors from outside of Punta Raton, the majority (41%) of whom came from a town 10 km inland. Income earned by collectors from Punta Raton was unevenly distributed. Of the 82 households (total households =93) participating in egg collection, four households earned 23% of all income, and 15 households earned nothing. The average earned was U5$93.66 per house­ho19 (range, U5$0 to U5$684.56), and 80% of households earned U5$160 per year or less. Be­cause the focus of Lagueux's (1989) study was on the Punta Raton households, the value of egg collecting to external collectors was not investi­gated. This value could have been higher be­cause while in Punta Raton, external collectors were dedicated to this activity.

Lagueux (1991) calculated basic cost of living expenses for Punta Raton households as US$1 per day per person and the average household size as six people. Based on these figures, and as­suming net income equals net expenditure, she calculated that egg collecting contributed to 4.3% of the yearly expenditure of the average household. Given the unequal distribution of benefits, however, egg collection was clearly much more valuable to some households than to others, and the seasonality of egg collecting suggests the 4.3% contribution to expenses was concentrated during the collecting season. Lagueux (1989) identified cash earned by egg collecting as important, given that most house­holds purchase the majority of staple and other

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foods and that alternative income-earning activ­ities were limited by geographic isolation and by lack of education and other social services. She also reflected on the social benefits associated with egg harvesting, which provided an oppor­tunity to exchange information and news with friends and family.

Using past observations made by Carr (1948) and Pritchard (1979) and her own observations in 1987, Lagueux suggested that 100% of olive rid­ley eggs have been harvested from the beaches in the Gulf of Fonseca since at least 1940 and possi­bly since 1920. She predicted a steep decline in the population and argued that "unless an improved conservation effort is made ... both the olive rid­ley sea turtle ... and the economic benefit that human populations derive from collecting eggs will be known as a historical occurrence" (Lagueux, 1991). Because turtles are valuable, Lagueux argued, local people should be encour­aged to conserve them. However, alternative in­terpretations of the results are possible; with an average of 4.3% of cost of living expenses gener­ated through egg collecting, this activity could be characterized as relatively unimportant. If so, to­tal protection might be pursued with small social and economic costs borne by collectors (although the uneven distribution of benefits suggests costs would be high for some households, and season­ality concentrates contributions to particular times of year). Or the small percentage of house­hold income earned and the perception that loss of the turtle resource would have "no effect" for most households might mean that incentives for conservation would be lacking. Further research may be required to evaluate these potential out­comes, but the baseline economic data provided by Lagueux (1989,1991) would be critical to any conservation planning for the region.

Egg Commerce

Lagueux (1989) found a variety of market chan­nels in operation in coastal Honduras, com­posed of anywhere from two to five buyers and sellers. Most primary egg buyers (86%), those who purchased directly from the egg collector, were residents of the coastal communities, and the relationship between collector and primary buyers was constant (Le., the same collectors sold to the same buyers, even if other buyers

Human Use of Olive Ridlrys

were offering higher prices). This relationship provided security to collector and buyer, and col­lectors also accessed loans from buyers based on this relationship. A small number of primary buyers owned restaurants or other retail outlets and sold directly to consumers, but most sold to secondary buyers.

Secondary egg buyers came to the coastal communities to purchase eggs, and some bought other products at the same time (with the im­portance of turtle eggs varying across buyers). No buyers were dependent exclusively on turtle eggs. Lagueux calculated the average income earned by primary egg buyers in six communi­ties, which ranged from US$9.72 to US$186.31 across communities. She also calculated price in­flation from egg collector to final vendor and showed that price inflation varied from 62% to 262%, depending on the time of year. In her sur­vey of markets, Lagueux (1989) found high avail­ability of eggs in markets, though sometimes by few vendors. She concluded that because egg buying and selling is relatively easy with few en­try costs, movement in and out of the business was fluid, and egg commerce potentially gener­ated income for a large number of people. She argued that the varied form of the market chan­nels and .numbers of people involved in egg commerce would make management of such commerce difficult.

Lagueux's (1989, 1991) study showed how the context for egg use in Honduras must be consid­ered at various scales, from the household to the village to the regional level. Although insights gained at anyone level are useful, results are most interesting when combined. For example, access to income from egg selling might not be as important to egg collectors as access to loans from primary egg buyers. The importance of egg collector and primary buyer relationships is an is­sue Lagueux (1989) may not have uncovered had she focused only on household activities and ig­nored market channels and mechanisms.

Nicaragua: Politics and Economics of Egg Collecting at Chacocente and La Flor

Olive ridleys nest in arribadas at two beaches on the Pacific Coast of Nicaragua, Playa La Flor and

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.. 30 LISA CAMPBELL

Chacocente, and managed egg collection proj­ects exist at both. Chacocente has received some attention by analysts interested in environmen­talism in Nicaragua, particularly as it relates to the country's political history (Faber, 1993). Re­search by Stewart (2001) and Hope (2000, 2002) is reviewed here; both conducted archival re­search in Nicaragua and undertook field site visits, interviews, and, in Stewart's case, partici­pant observation. These methods were em­ployed in very different theoretical contexts. Stewart was interested in the geopolitical context of conservation at Chacocente, whereas Hope attempted to assess the sustainability of egg col­lection regimens by applying an 'i\rribada Sus­

tainability Framework" to four arribada beaches (Playa La Flor and Chacocente in Nicaragua and Ostional and Nancite in Costa Rica).

Chacocente

Faber (1993) and Stewart (2001) linked conser­vation activities in Nicaragua to the country's political history, and they traced prerevolution­ary (pre-1979), revolutionary (1979-1990), and postrevolutionary (post-1990) views on environ­ment. The history of olive ridley use at Chaco­cente is linked to this history, and Chacocente is an important case study for understanding it. As one of the protected areas established by the rev­olutionary Sandinista government, Chacocente has symbolic value. The Nicaraguan revolution was, in some ways, an environmental revolu­tion, and environmentalists were key supporters of it (Weinberg, 1991; Faber, 1993). As a result of environmental degradation and control of resources by the ruling elite under Somoza, en­vironmentalists "saw that only a fundamental transformation in the country's power structure could open the door to ecologically sound and socially beneficial development." So central was environment and control over natural resources to the aims of the Sandinista government that their revolution has been labeled an experiment in "ecological socialism" or "revolutionary ecol­ogy" (Faber, 1993).

Within weeks of the revolution, the Sandin­ista government established the Instituto Nica­ragiiense de Recursos Naturales y del Ambiente (IRENA). Under its initial leader, Jorge Jenkins, IRENA pursued productive conservation, that

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is, conservation to benefit people. A plan was de­veloped to create 36 national reserves, covering 17% of the country, where resources would be managed in a productive manner. As part of this plan, the 4,800-ha Chacocente-Rio Esca­lente Wildlife Refuge was established in 1983 (Stewart, 2001). Its symbolic value is derived from three sources. First, according to Faber (1993), Chacocente was one of the only pro­tected areas implemented of the intended 36. Once civil war berween the Sandinistas and the Contras began, funds were scarce, and conser­vation activities were scaled back. Furthermore, the guerilla war tactics of the Contras were based in wilderness zones, many of which were intended for protection. Even if they were de­clared protected areas, operationalizing protec­tion was infeasible. The 1993 UN List of Parks and Protected Areas shows 17 protected areas established in 1983, but few received adequate funding or support (IUCN, 1992). Chacocente, however, was geographically removed from most war activities, and it could feasibly be protected. Second, the Sandinista government turned its attention to sea turtles in general and, according to Faber (1993), the "most exemplary of IRENA's wildlife initiatives was the Sea Turtle

. ~onservation Campaign." The campaign sought to reduce harvesting of green turtles on the Miskito Coast and to regulate egg collecting at Chacocente, and a national educational pro­gram was a critical component of the campaign. Third, as an arribada beach, Chacocente pre­sented a good opportunity to implement the principles of productive conservation. As dis­cussed below, the symbolic value of Chacocente has been an important factor influencing its management.

Each year berween July and January, turtles nest in four or more arribadas at Chacocente (Stewart, 2001; Hope, 2002). There are four villages within the bounds of the refuge and 13 villages surrounding it. In the early 1980s, 350 families lived in these 17 villages. The area was one of extreme poverty, with high illiteracy rates, few educational or health services, limited access to potable water and sanitation, high fertility, and no electricity. Of the 350 families, 317 practiced slash and burn agriculture and cattle raising as their primary economic activity, 27 fished, and 19 worked in semiskilled labor (AID, 1991, cited

--31

in Stewart, 2001). Subsistence farmers pursued wage labor on larger cooperative farms and mi­grated seasonally for agricultural work or worked as domestic servants in cities. During Stewart's re­search, wage labor paid a maximum of the equiv­alent of US$2 per day but was rare, and unem­ployment was high. Communities within the refuge were some of the poorest in the province, relying on basic grain crops, fuelwood collection, and citrus cultivation (FUNDENICSOS, 1999, cited in Hope, 2002). Although this regional pic­ture may be dated, Nicaraguan standards of living remain some of the poorest in the world. Nicaragua ranked 121 out of 175 countries on the 2003 UNDP Human Development Index and had an estimated GDP per capita of US$2,450 (www.undp.org/hdr2003). The only country in the region to rank lower was Haiti (151).

Stewart (2001) described the communities around Chacocente as having their backs to the sea. With the exception of one village fishing co­operative, there were few sea-based economic activities. None of the villages were immedi­ately proximate to the nesting beach; villagers (and others) traveled (sometimes short dis­tances) to Chacocente to collect turtle eggs. The authorized egg harvest was theoretically for con­sumption only by the collector and immediate family, but eggs were almost always sold, as the market value (US$0.60-0.90 per dozen: Stewart, 2001; Hope, 2002) outweighed their attraction as food, and profits from two nests exceeded what could be earned in a week by unskilled labor (Stewart, 2001). Hope (2002) suggests that families make decisions on whether to sell or consume eggs based on price, alternative food sources available, and size of egg allocation. Once collected, eggs were sold to traders, and collectors and traders may have long-term rela­tionships. Traders transported eggs to urban markets, where they were resold to vendors who resold them to consumers and restaurants. A few extended families traditionally controlled much of the egg trade, and some traders inter­viewed by Stewart (2001) had been working as such for over 20 years. Stewart concluded that "the egg trade is deeply imbedded in the eco­nomic and social life of the area" and examined the political context of this trade and what it im­plied for conservation in prerevolutionary, revo­lutionary, and postrevolutionary time periods.

Human Use of Olive Ridleys

PREREVOLUTIONARY CHACOCENTE UN­

DER SOMOZA. Before the Sandinista revolu­tion, egg collecting at Chacocente was unregu­lated. Eggs were an open-access resource that was important to the destitute majority in this rural hinterland, where the ruling elites con­trolled most land and resources. Although there were some attempts to control egg harvesting at Chacocente in the last years of Somoza's regime (e.g., a 2-month ban on harvesting was intro­duced in the late 1970s), rules were generally flouted by both local people and Somoza's Na­tional Guard (Stewart, 2001).

CHACOCENTE DURING THE REVOLUTION­

ARY SANDINISTA PERIOD. Atthe time of the revolution, egg collectors and sellers at Chaco­cente numbered in the thousands. The revolu­tionary government sought to "change the so­cial ecology of egg harvesting, distribution, and consumption in ways consonant with the larger national transition toward socialism" (Stewart, 2001). Sandinista activities to achieve these goals at Chacocente can be divided into three phases.

Hope (2002) suggests that, before 1993, no ac­cess to the beach at Chacocente was permitted. The level of detail provided by Stewart (2001) on egg harvesting under the Sandinista government and reference to Chacocente's turtle program by Faber (1993), however, clearly indicate that egg harvesting was ongoing throughout the Sandi­nista period.

Following the revolution of 1979, and until 1982 (phase 1), IRENA, under the leadership of biologist Magali Ubina, faced egg collectors and sellers "involved in a sort of combined squatter's movement and nonagricultural land invasion laying claim to beaches, turtles, and nests in the absence of the controls exerted by. local manifestation of the Somoza dictatorship." Peo­ple came from distant cities and neighboring countries and set up a temporary beachfront shantytown housing as many as 3,000 people (Stewart, 2001). An impromptu market was es­tablished to serve the needs of collectors, and competition in harvesting, an outsider-versus­insider divide, and alcohol all combined for a tur­bulent and sometimes violent collection (for both people and turtles).

Ubina and her students first set out to study the turtles and the human community. On the

•

32 LISA CAMPBELL

human side, they found that declining social and economic conditions had changed collection ac­tivities; collecting had gone from being an ex­tension of women's and children's domestic du­ties to a cash-generating activity undertaken by men. These men, many of them farmers, neg­lected farms during egg collection, which un­dermined production of staple foods. Collectors were "victimized" by the egg traders, inter­mediaries who transported the eggs from beach to market. Egg collectors received only 14-27%

of final value (Stewart, 2001). Furthermore, prof­its were unevenly distributed among families. Based on Ubina's initial assessment of the eco­nomic and social situation, a scheme for pro­ductive conservation was developed and imple­mented in the second phase.

productive conservation was operationalized from 1982 to 1987 (phase 2). IRENA established itself as the egg buyer and paid collectors twice what they had received previously. IRENA then set the sale price of eggs to be competitive with chicken eggs and used the profits from the sale to fund conservation at Chacocente. The num­ber of people participating in the harvest was re­duced, and 350 families with historical links to the egg harvest from the 17 surrounding villages were given collection permits and some role in decisionmaking. Egg collecting was restricted to the first three arribadas, and all nests laid in the final arribada were protected. Traders were not totally eliminated under IRENA's plan but rather had to organize in cooperatives of six or more members. Cooperatives would deposit money to buy eggs with IRENA, and IRENA would then buy eggs from collectors and transport them to market, where traders could sell to ven­dors (Stewart, 2001).

In his archival research, Stewart (2001) found only one remaining management plan for Cha­cocente during this period, written in 1985. The listed objectives included avoiding exploitation of collectors, restricting price speculation, in­creasing standards of living, keeping children in school, keeping collectors from abandoning their farms, and restricting collecting to the poorest women and the elderly. The wider and explicit revolutionary agenda in this plan is evi­dent. It "envisioned far-reaching transformation of local communities in line with national scale revolutionary goals. The aim was not simply to

control access to turtle eggs but to dampen the destabilizing effects of unrestrained egg trade on the national society and to promote social order of a particular kind." Whether many of these objectives were achieved or even pursued is un­certain, but some activities did reflect revolu­tionary socialist thinking. First, IRENA operated a store where families licensed to collect eggs could buy goods at subsidized prices and avoid trips to distant markets. Second, it attempted to ensure that collectors received a higher propor­tion of the profit from the collection by restrict­ing the role of intermediaries.

Revenues skimmed off egg sales by IRENA were used to support park guards, technicians, and staff (Stewart, 2001). The environmental claims of the program included reduCing the to­tal number of eggs collected by restricting access to nearby communities only (Faber, 1993), re­ducing the consequences of the collection itself by controlling activities on the beach, and in­vesting in infrastructure, with a research station constructed in 1982 to house IRENA employees and serve as a base of operations during collec­tions (Stewart, 2001). IRENA sponsored envi­ronmental education about turtles, focusing on the conservation of turtles in line with human interests (Faber, 1993; Stewart, 2001). A seasonal ban on commercial sale of eggs was imple­mented and supported by military patrols and roadblocks as well as inspectors in markets, restaurants, and bars (Stewart, 2001). Because of this combination of a charismatic wildlife phe­nomenon, strong state action, and local defense of livelihoods, Stewart (2001) labeled Chaco­cente a high-profile exercise in productive con­servation during this period. However, financial support for Chacocente was under pressure. By 1985, IRENA's budget had been cut by 40%, and in 1986 it was reduced a further 10% (Faber, 1993).

Between 1988 and 1990 (phase 3), state fund­ing was diverted increasingly to the war effort. In 1988, the program was shut down tem­porarily, and large-scale invasions of the beach by egg collectors recommenced (Stewart, 2001).

By 1989, the government could not pay to guard Chacocente (Faber, 1993). Opposition from traders and collectors mounted during this period. Traders, unhappy that IRENA had taken a major role in egg selling, discouraged the idea of egg­

•

33

collecting cooperatives by convincing collectors that cooperatives were a ruse to conscript people to fight the Contras at the border. Traders also argued that IRENA's role as egg-selling interme­diary "violated the traders' right under revolu­tionary ideology to a livelihood and to access to commonly held resources." This phase was marked by a change (and reduction) in person­nel, the withdrawal of IRENA from egg selling, and the end of self-financing for Chacocente through the egg trade (Stewart, 2001). IRENA as a whole saw an 85% cut in personnel and was demoted to a subunit of the Ministerio de Agri­cultura y Reforma Agraria (MARENA) (IUCN,

1992).

POSTREVOLUTIONARY CHACOCENTE: CHA­

MORRO AND BEYOND. Violetta Chamorro's United States-supported coalition government defeated the Sandinistas in national elections in 1990. FolloWing this, Stewart (2001) describes Chacocente as a "poster child of the vicious cycle of human desperation and environmental degradation," as clashes over access to the egg resource increased among squatters, park guards, police, and the army. A less powerful and autonomous IRENA, working under MARENA, at one point tried to reduce the num­ber of communities that were licensed to take eggs from 17 to 9 (a decision soon reversed). MARENA was also criticized for failing to coop­erate with student volunteers and nongovern­ment organizations (NGOs) interested in sea turtle conservation.

By 1993, some control at Chacocente was reestablished, and Chacocente was staffed sea­sonally by soldiers and permanently by a rotat­ing MARENA staff of five (Stewart, 2001). The community representatives currently meet monthly with MARENA and army staff to dis­cuss refuge operations (Hope, 2002). Any at­tempt to understand MARENA's management plan for turtle eggs from Chacocente (or La Flor) must be made in the wider national context. There is a national ban on collecting and selling eggs from all beaches between October 1 and January 31 of each year, but eggs from beaches outside of protected areas can be collected and sold at other times of the year. In Chacocente, the ban on egg collecting applies from July 1 to January 31, and sale of eggs from the Refuge is

•

Human Use of Olive Ridleys

not permitted. In spite of the July 1 ban, a man­aged collection of eggs occurs from July to Oc­tober, but theoretically for consumptive pur­poses only.

The strategy for egg collection during this third phase has changed over time. An initial harvesting strategy allowed egg collecting in Chacocente (and Playa La Flor) from February 1

to June 30 (dry season) because of the high sand temperatures and related low hatching rates. In 1995-1996, the seasonal strategy was aban­doned because of concerns about temperature­dependant sex determination in hatchlings and because the seasonal harvesting strategy may have biased the sex ratio. Production and repro­duction zones were established on the beach; eggs were collected from the production zone (the lower half of the beach, where eggs were more likely to be washed out by tides and surf) and protected in the reproduction zone (upper half of the beach). Spatially, the 800 m of beach where most turtles converge to nest was divided into 17 sections (one for each village), and, dur­ing arribadas, communities sent a representative to help collect eggs and guard the beach in their section. Eggs were then distributed to families in 17 surrounding communities according to a quota of several dozen per family per season. Also in the J.995-1996 season, a Christmas quota of five dozen eggs was distributed to each child under 9 years of age from families involved in the collection (involving over 1,000 children) (Stewart, 2001).

In 1998, reproduction and production zones were abandoned. Instead, MARENA allowed unlimited collection during the first night of the arribada and protected the turtles and nests dur­ing subsequent nights. Unlimited collection was allowed on the outer perimeter of the refuge because of enforcement limitations, and on portions of beach likely to be washed out. This policy produced more than the number of eggs required to meet the quota of 10 dozen per fam­ily for that year. Excess eggs were used to pay designated communities' members and addi­tional "hired" men who helped collect eggs. Women and children from nearby villages also showed up during collections and were given leftovers. Stewart (2001) calculated that the total of these payments and free eggs was about one­fifth of the harvest, representing "a Significant

., 34 LIS A CAM P BEL L

I. siphoning-off of eggs from the official (and more equitable) quota system of egg distribu­tion to families."

Hope (2002) and Stewart (2001) both refer to a "rotation" system in which different commu­nities participate in turn in different arribadas. Neither provided details on how the rotation works. Does the rotation involve participating in collecting activities only while still receiving eggs for each arribada? Or do families receive eggs only dUring the arribada their community participates in? But both imply that it results in an equitable distribution of eggs.

The quota of eggs per family and the number of families involved in the harvest have also changed, with the quota deceasing as the num­ber of families has increased. The quota fell from 15 dozen eggs per family in 1995 to 11 in 1997, 10 in 1998, and 2 or 3 in 1999-2000 (Hope, 2002). The number of families involved has in­creased from 350 families in the 1980s to 800 in 1995 and 1,036 in 1997 (Stewart, 2001). Hope (2002) identified 5,754 individuals with harvest­ing rights in 1999. Neither Stewart (2001) nor Hope (2002) discussed the implications of this change (decreased benefits to individual families but distribution to more families), but Hope did suggest that communities living closer to 'the nesting beach felt their use rights should take precedence of those living farther away. Stewart suggested that the social unrest resulting from large-scale invasions was often blamed on out­siders living far from the refuge.

In spite of the law that prohibits the sale of eggs from the refuge, eggs are quickly sold to traders and taken to market, where, according to Stewart (2001), they were easily found, even during the period of the national ban. Based on 1996-1997 figures, Stewart calculated that earnings from the egg trade were distributed as follows: US$4,600 for collecting families, US$11,600 for market vendors, and US$46,000 for food vendors and restaurants. Hope (2002) reported a 32-33% price spread for eggs; that is, collectors received approximately one-third of the final sale price of eggs. Both Stewart (2001) and Hope (2000) saw problems arising from the large-scale collection of eggs from Chacocente, prohibition on all legal commerce of these eggs, but legal commerce from July to October in eggs from elsewhere. Given the longstanding com­

-~----~_._--

mercial nature of egg collecting, high levels of poverty in the region, and a powerful group of egg traders, prohibition of egg commerce would require considerable enforcement if im­plemented. From July to October, when com­merce in eggs from other beaches is legal, the in­ability to determine the source of eggs is problematic (Stewart, 2001). Hope (2000) ar­gued that this legal dichotomy leads to high price spreads; prices are inflated in the black market for eggs, but egg collectors, numbering in the thousands and acting illegally and as indi­viduals, have little bargaining power with egg traders, who are fewer in number (a situation of monopsony).

Playa La Flor

Located farther south on the Pacific coast of Nicaragua, Playa La Flor is a 1.6-km arribada nesting beach (five to seven arribadas per year: Hope, 2002), and, as in Chacocente, limited egg collection is permitted. Hope (2002) included La Flor in his study of the economics of arribada nesting beaches, but there is little else published. Reports written by the Sea Turtle Restoration Project (Arauz, 1996) and Fundaci6n Cocibolca (Cocibolca, 1997) provide background detail to supplement Hope's (2002) analysis. Original re­search by Nicaraguan NGOs and researchers was cited in the Cocibolca report and is referred to in this chapter where appropriate.

Playa La Flor was declared a wildlife refuge in 1996 under General Environmental Law No. 216 (Hope, 2002). Prior protection had been facili­tated by a private land owner (the Sequeria fam­ily) in cooperation with MARENA. Their agree­ment included a permanent military presence at La Flor from July to January, beginning in 1992. In 1993, this presence was supplemented with nine rangers contracted by MARENA from July toJanuary; hired to conduct research, control the newly instituted egg-collecting program, and protect nests. A dormitory was built to house staff (Arauz, 1996). Currently, the refuge is co­managed by Fundaci6n Cocibolca and MARENA, in consultation with communities and the army (Hope, 2002).

Arauz (1996) stated that egg collecting at La Flor was minimal before 1983. However, with the creation of Chacocente Wildlife Refuge in

35

that year, demand increased when people ex­cluded from egg harvesting at Chacocente turned their attention to La Flor. In 1993, a col­lection program was initiated, and three com­munities participated. This number has in­creased; Hope (2002) suggested that the current egg harvesting benefits eight communities con­sisting of 598 families and 2,618 people, figures in line with the eight communities and 576 fam­ilies identified by Cocibolca (1997).

The legal framework for egg collecting at Playa La Flor is the same as that described above for Chacocente. Approximately 4% of eggs laid at Playa La Flor are collected under the approved program (Arauz, 1996; Hope, 2002) from areas of the beach where highest nest loss is antici­pated. Each community involved in the collec­tion elects a Community Commission to orga­nize the distribution of eggs. Commissions are made up of six or seven community members, and 98% of commissioners are male (Cocibolca, 1997). Commissioners participate in extracting the eggs and distributing eggs among families (seven to eight dozen per family per season: Arauz, 1996). Commissioners also participate in meetings with MARENA to discuss problems and to receive information. Commissioners re­ceive two extra nests per season for their work, as do individuals who help with routine moni­toring activities in the refuge (Cocibolca, 1997).

As at Chacocente, many families at La Flor sell their eggs to earn cash to purchase other products and services. However, the situation for collectors at La Flor is superior to that at Chacocente, as the proximity of the tourist town of Sanjuan del Sur and its transportation links to and from Managua promote easier ac­cess to markets. Outside the national ban on egg sales, collectors retained 37.5% of final price (Hope, 2002). There is a discrepancy between Hope's and Cocibolca's estimated value of egg collecting to the community. Whereas Hope suggested collectors make the equivalent of US$38-63 per capita income per month, Coci­bolca (1997) referred to recent (unspecified) studies showing that egg collection did not gen­erate Significant income and had a negligible ef­fect on the precarious economy. However, Co­cibolca did recognize that, given the ease of earning income via eggs, the community was unwilling to give it up.

Human Use of Olive Ridleys

Cocibolca (1997) reported "reproachable" acts by MARENA within the refuge, including alcohol abuse, illegal egg extraction, sexual vio­lence against women, and excessive violence against apprehended poachers. The NCO Nix­tayolero conducted community research at La Flor and found several points of local dis­satisfaction and social unrest. Communication, availability of information, and function with process were all identified as problems. Local people complained about irregularities in the project's functioning and lack of transparency in decisionmaking. At the same time, Nixtayolero found that a high level of dependence on eggs, in addition to economic poverty, increased de­mands for eggs (Nixtayolero, 1997, cited in Co­cibolca, 1997). Hope (2002), Arauz (1996), and Cocibolca (1997) all called for greater commu­nity participation at La Flor. Cocibolca saw this as essential for resolving problems experienced with MARENA staff. For example, if local people replaced MARENA staff as rangers (two local people were hired as rangers in 1996), so­cial problems might decrease.

Few economic activities exist in the La Flor area. Arauz (1996) and Cocibolca (1997) both identified the need to develop alternatives and agreed that ecotourism was one option, calling for deveiopmem of tourist services and training local people as tourism guides. They differed in their views of egg harvesting. Arauz argued that high quotas of eggs could be allowed if scientific research on productivity on the beach supported it. Some research has been done on this issue (von Mutius and van den Berghe, 2002). Coci­bolca, however, aimed to convert egg collectors into ecotourism guides and to reduce extraction from the refuge, with a goal to eliminate egg col­lecting in 5 years. Their rationale: '1\s commu­nities become more involved and sources of em­ployment are created through ecotourism, they will see for themselves that this option is better than harvesting turtle eggs." Neither Arauz nor Cocibolca considered possible links between tourism and egg consumption, which may be indicated by the existence of markets for eggs in Sanjuan del Sur.

Conservation is always a political activity. in­volving decisions about who is allowed access to specific resources. The use of sea turtle eggs in Nicaragua, as described above, exemplifies this

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36 LISA CAMPBELL

reality. In the case of Chacocente, conservation was an overtly political activity tied to revolu­tionary ideology in the Sandinista era. There were, and still remain, implications of such overt linkages. Ideology dictated that price inflation through intermediaries should be avoided, and the Sandinistas ignored the long history of egg traders and their political power when they tried to eliminate them from the process. Not only did egg traders work to undermine the govern­ment's cooperative program as a result, but they waged a rhetorical battle, arguing that their rights to a livelihood were being denied, counter to revolutionary doctrine. Such problems show the difficulties of putting ideology into practice.

The political legacy of Chacocente will con­tinue to dictate how it evolves. Although it has been more than 10 years since the Sandinistas were defeated, they remain a force in Nica­raguan politics, and local people will not easily be deprived of the sea turtle resource. Stewart (2001) commented that even as the collection program in the 1990s continued to regulate social access, seek an equitable distribution of eggs, and provide opportunities for local people to stay informed about management and influ­ence it to some degree, egg collectors and traders continued to subvert the program through poaching, illegal trade, and occasional mass invasions of the nesting beach. "This com­bination of "participation" via cooperation with the Chacocente program and direct action via poaching and beach invasions has maintained pressure on state authorities to stick to a model of sea turtle conservation that is oriented to­ward serving the immediate economic needs of surrounding communities through egg harvest­ing" (Stewart, 2001). The political parties have changed, but the people's focus on productive conservation has remained.

The links between La Flor and Chacocente il­lustrate the need to consider the repercussions of local activities. The thousands of people en­gaged in egg collecting in Chacocente at the be­ginning of Sandinista rule were reduced to sev­eral hundred, and both Faber (1993) and Stewart (2001) identified this as a "success." Neither con­sidered where the excluded collectors went: if Arauz (1996) was correct, protection at Chaco­cente accelerated egg harvesting at La Flor.

•

In both Playa La Flor and Chacocente, the ab­solute amounts earned by individual egg collec­tors may seem small, but these earnings need to be viewed in the overall context of high eco­nomic stress and few cash-earning opportuni­ties. Combined with the political atmosphere and beliefs about rights to harvest, the absolute value of egg collecting is perhaps the least im­portant measure for consideration in decision­making. Hope (2002) also argued that the key is­sue is who captures "rents" from egg collecting, that is, how profits are distributed. When a sig­nificant proportion of rents are captured by le­gitimate harvesters, they may be more likely to take a long-term view and work to ensure the sustainability of egg collecting, particularly if their rights are clearly outlined. At both Chaco­cente and La Flor, too much rent is siphoned off by intermediaries. This imbalance is supported by the illegal nature of the sale, as collectors can­not easily organize to challenge the monopsony power of traders, and the history of Chacocente shows that the traders, who earn more and are politically powerful, can effectively undermine organized egg collecting. Any effort to redistrib­ute income that ignores traders will do so at its own peril.

The legal context of egg selling in Nicaragua IS problematic. Stewart (2001) cites failure to ad­dress legal/illegal contradictions as illustrating a "lack of follow-through on the institutionaliza­tion of Chacocente program and the principle of productive conservation the program has his­torically embodied." If eggs sales were legal, the "productive" element of the program would be official. With eggs collected only for household consumption, the program looks like welfare. The distinction is not simply ideological. Stew­art argued that this failure leaves the area vul­nerable to land grabbing and the new "par­quismo" movement. MARENA, for example, includes in its aims reducing social pressures for egg collecting through developing alternatives in the buffer zone, regardless of whether egg col­lecting is sustainable.

Both Stewart (2001) and Hope (2002) criti­cized the top-down nature of egg collecting and the failure to involve local people adequately in decisionmaking. Such externally enforced com­pliance decreases incentives for ownership or

37

stewardship, and the occasional invasions at Chacocente can be interpreted as the collectors' assertions of rights in a system that affords them

few.

Costa Rica: Egg Collecting at Ostional

Ostional has received considerable attention over the years as the site of a widely publicized legal egg collection project (Pritchard, 1984) and because of conflicts that have plagued the proj­ect since the mid-1990s (Valverde, 1999). The discussion of Ostional is based on the author's research (Campbell, 1997, 1998, 1999), other published work (Arauz Almengor et aI., 2001; Hope, 2002), and unpublished documents from the Asociaci6n de Desarrollo Integral de Os­tional (ADIO) and the University of Costa Rica. The egg harvest itself and its effects on national egg marketing are discussed below.

The Egg Project

Campbell's (1998) study was based on 8 months of residence in Ostional (11 months in Costa Rica) over the course of 1994-1995. She con­ducted in-depth interviews with community members, government employees, and biologists associated with the project, surveyed 91 % of households, and analyzed unpublished manage­ment and consulting reports. Hope's (2002) methods are described above (Nicaragua section).

The arribada nesting beach at Ostional is pro­tected in the Ostional Wildlife Refuge (estab­lished in 1985), where olive ridleys nest almost every month throughout the year. Arribada nesting varies from month to month, but in the rainy season (peak nesting season) of 2001, esti­mated numbers of turtles ranged from 20,000 to 130,000 turtles per arribada (Chaves, 2002). Eggs are collected by members of ADIO during the first 36 hours of each arribada, packaged in plas­tic bags stamped with the Ostional insignia, and transported throughout the country. One objec­tive of the project is to saturate the national mar­ket for eggs, and the price of Ostional eggs is kept low to discourage illegal collection of eggs from other beaches. All aspects of the collection

•

Human Use of Olive Ridleys

and distribution are managed by ADIO, and al­though various government agencies have re­sponsibilities for the refuge and egg collection, their involvement is often minimal. Profits are distributed among salaries paid to cooperative members (70%) and community development projects and expenses of the association (includ­ing the biologist's salary) (30%) (Campbell, 1998).

Campbell (1998) evaluated the social and eco­nomic aspects of egg collecting that contributed to its socioeconomic sustainability. She deter­mined that 70% of households identified egg harvesting as their most important activity and that salaries earned in egg harvesting were su­perior to those earned in other available em­ployment, with the exception of tourism (see below). Benefits of the project were well distrib­uted in the village, although some large families with many associates earned more than the av­erage household, and individuals holding egg­selling and distribution contracts (which theo­retically rotate among community members) earned extra income. Households that did not participate in egg harvesting were also support­ive of the project, as they received secondary economic benefits by selling goods and services to cooperative members. Social and environ­mental impacts of the project were believed to be primarily positive, although there was recog­nition of the need to diversify the economy and reduce dependence on egg harvesting, partly be­cause egg harvesting, although lucrative, occurs for only several days each month.

Received and perceived economic benefits were critical to community support for the proj­ect. However, there were other important fac­tors, including the legality of the project (thus le­gitimizing local livelihoods and removing fear of arrest), community management of the project by ADIO (rather than by an outside agency), and the establishment of the community's manage­ment role in law; Wildlife Conservation Law 6919, which allows for the egg collection, stipu­lates that a community development association be formed to manage the project. The combina­tion of these factors provided security and en­couraged wide distribution of benefits to both cooperative members and some nonmembers, reinvestment of profits into local development projects (lessening individual profit but increas­

38 LISA CAMPBELL

ing community benefits), investment in conser­vation through both paid and unpaid activities (beach guarding, escorting hatchlings to the surf), and adoption of voluntary development restrictions to minimize interference with ma­rine turtle nesting and habitat. Hope (2002) cal­culated that the Ostional project retained more profits locally than did egg harvesting projects in Nicaragua through control over marketing and distribution and linked this to the overall lower price spreads experienced in Ostional. Hope (2000) cited price spreads of 75% for Ostional but also noted the existence of regional price spreads: the farther eggs moved away from Os­tiona!' the greater the price difference.

Campbell's (1998) conclusions regarding the importance of the legal nature of the project to ensuring community support for conservation activities have been tested over the past three years, as several legal challenges to the project have been instigated by biologist Anny Chaves, formerly director of marine turtle research at the University of Costa Rica. The many recurso de amparo (petitions) registered with Constitu­tional Court by Chaves have ranged in scope from challenging the definition of the dry season (and related nest location techniques) adopted in ADIO's management plan and ques: . tioning the responsibilities of the government to provide a clean environment to demanding the cancellation of permission for commercial sale of eggs from Ostional. The details of these legal debates are described by Monge Artavia and Jimenez Gomez (2001), and although the project has continued to function, the sense of security that Campbell (1998) deemed crucial to sustain­ability undoubtedly has been threatened. How­ever, no research on the effects of this latest stage in Ostional's history has been conducted.

Campbell (1999) also evaluated the effects of tourism in Ostional and its potential to coexist or compete with the egg-harvesting project. At the time of the study, levels of tourism in Ostional were low but increasing. In 1995, there were an estimated 852 overnight stays in Ostional, gen­erating approximately US$6,500 for the two ca­binas (small motels, four to eight rooms) opera­tors in that year. For those two households, tourism earned them four and seven times more than the egg-harvesting project, respectively. In­depth interviews revealed that people of Os­

tional perceived economic benefits of tourism but saw these as concentrated among a few fam­ilies. Furthermore, there was a strong belief that tourism development could have negative im­pacts on the nesting turtles. Some saw tour guid­ing for turtle watching as a possible way to over­come these potential negative effects, but others saw limitations on guiding in Ostional. For ex­ample, there are many access points to the beach, it is easy to observe turtles during arri­badas, and there are few English-speaking resi­dents to serve as tour guides. There was also an awareness of existing and potential social im­pacts, including increased land speculation and ownership by foreigners. In contrast, household surveys showed wide support for tourism and beliefs in the financial benefits. However, re­spondents had trouble identifying specific eco­nomic benefits or further economic opportuni­ties to invest in tourism, and approximately half the surveyed respondents did not want to work in tourism. Thus, the contradiction between in­terview and survey responses may be linked to survey respondents' expressed desire for any type of additional development.

Campbell (1999) identified constraints to the community's ability to profit further from tourism. First, the existing accommodation sec­tor was underutilized with occupancy rates at 12%, and the expense of investing in accommo­dations coupled with increasing land prices meant that investment in infrastructure (e.g., cabinas) would be out of reach for many com­munity members. Foreign ownership was al­ready evident in the small tourism economy of 1994-1995. The opportunities for tour guiding were limited, although laws requiring that tourists be accompanied by a guide while on the beach (in operation at Tortuguero, Costa Rica) might change this if introduced. Most impor­tantly, tourism, rather than merely offsetting de­pendence on the egg project, could conflict with it, as tourist and local uses of turtles (as specta­cle and as food) may be incompatible. With a large number of people depending on the egg harvest and a small but relatively wealthy num­ber on tourists, the potential for conflict is high and is complicated by the interests of foreign land owners investing in tourism. Hope (2002) noted that tensions existed around building re­strictions, road maintenance, and lighting, and

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39 Human Use of Olive Ridleys

at least part of this was linked to the desire by some residents for further tourism development (Ostional resident, personal communication).

National Markets

Because one of the objectives for legalizing the Ostional project was to flood the market with a legal supply of cheap eggs, thereby decreasing il­legal collection elsewhere, the project's success in this area should be evaluated (Valverde, 1999). A study by Arauz Almengor et a!. (2001) sought to "determine the demands and characteristics of turtle-egg marketing from Ostional Wildlife Refuge." The results are dated, as the study was conducted in 1991 when ADIO contracted the distribution of eggs to an outside party (associ­ates of ADIO currently distribute eggs along a number of national routes). Nevertheless, their results are reviewed here. Arauz Almengor et a!. interviewed ADIO executive members, two egg distributors, and two egg retailers in San]ose. In addition, they visited 64 establishments where eggs were sold. Although they did not say so ex­plicitly, their data suggest they interviewed at least one person in these establishments.

Under the old distribution system, eggs were delivered to four distributors to cover six na­tional routes, and 81 resellers (contractors, dis­tributors, fish markets, street vendors, bar restaurants) were involved in resale (Arauz AI­mengor et al., 2001). When Campbell was con­ducting her research (1994-1995), eggs were dis­tributed directly by ADIO, on nine national routes (Campbell, 1998). Under both systems, the Central Valley was well supplied with eggs, but the southern zone and Limon were inade­quately supplied (Campbell, 1997; Arauz AI­mengor et a!', 2001). Arauz Almengor et a!. (2001) found major price variations in San]ose, and Hope (2002) found the geographic price spread described above.

The main market for eggs is bars, where ap­proximately 90% of eggs were prepared raw in a red sauce as an appetizer. Although Arauz AI­mengor et a!. (2001) reported that eggs were be­lieved to hold aphrodisiac qualities, they also found that only 22% of persons interviewed fa­vored eggs over other appetizers.

One conclusion of Arauz Almengor et a!. (2001) was that ADIO should consider taking

over the distribution of eggs to minimize the number of intermediaries and resulting price in­flation. ADIO did so (whether linked to this study or not is unknown), and although there are still issues of national coverage (Campbell, 1998; Hope, 2002), profits retained by egg selling and distribution were significant to project member households (Campbell, 1998).

Suriname: Culture and Resistance with Egg Collecting

Schulz's (1975) overview of use of sea turtles in Suriname included all species of turtles nesting in the country, but there was specific reference to the use and conservation of olive ridleys. He combined a review of historical documentation and anthropological research undertaken by Kloos (1971, cited in Schulz, 1975) with a de­scription of management efforts. Published in 1975, it is an early example of attention to the human context of use and to a related anthro­pological study. It is worth noting that the man­agement plan, one that allowed for continued exploitation of sea turtle eggs in Suriname, was devised before the contemporary sustainable use dia!ogue began; it was based both on a belief in the potential to rationally exploit sea turtles and on the recognition of the infeasibility of a total ban, given human demand.

Schulz (1975) cited records of turtle use in his­torical documents dated as early as the late 1600s. The people involved in the harvest of turtles and eggs in Suriname were primarily the Kali'na, in­digenous peoples residing in coastal areas. In Schulz's work, the Ka!i'na are referred to as Carib. These Amerindians, who live on both sides of the Marowijne/Maroni river that separates Suriname and French Guiana, have been given various names over time (Carib, Galibi, and Kaliiia). Kali'na is the name they currently adopt for them­selves (Collomb and Tiouka, 2000). Although both turtles (primarily greens, Chelonia mydas) and eggs (greens, leatherbacks [Dermochelys coriacea], and olive ridleys) were used historically, meat was not consumed by the Kali'nas (but was traded nation­ally and internationally). Green turtles were the targeted species for meat export, but olive ridleys were also included (Schulz, 1975). Before the 1900s, it is not clear whether eggs were used only

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40 LISA CAMPBELL

by Kali'nas or traded with other peoples, but by 1945, Geijskes (1945, cited in Schulz, 1975) re­ported that egg harvesting had increased to meet non-Kali'na demand. At the time of World War II, most olive ridley (and green turtle) eggs laid in Suri­name were collected and distributed to national markets and to French Guiana (Schulz, 1975).

Following World War II, meat exports stopped. Because there was little internal demand for meat, attention turned to egg collecting. In 1954,

the Game Ordinance and the Nature Preserva­tion Ordinance came into force, and some of the nesting beaches were protected. Because of high levels of beach erosion, however, some of Suri­name's initial attempts to protect nesting beaches were undermined. The first nesting tur­tle population protected in 1954 had shifted out­side the protected zone by 1973. The main nest­ing beaches for olive ridleys were originally outside the areas subject to the wildlife laws and outside the limits of protected areas. In 1964,

about 750,000 green and olive ridley eggs were harvested from around the Marowijne Estuary and sold in national markets. This represented about 90% of the production from the beach. When Eilanti Beach was identified as the most important olive ridley nesting beach on the At­lantic, efforts to stop egg collecting began. In 1967 and 1969, money from the World Wildlife Fund was used to purchase eggs from collectors for reburial in hatcheries. In 1969, the area was declared a nature reserve, and by 1970, a com­plete ban on collecting olive ridley eggs was en­forced. Some compensation was provided through a limited collection of green turtle eggs established and run by the government. Kali'nas would eventually be paid approximately double the amount they previously had received from intermediaries, and yet the project initially met with resistance and became highly politicized. "The 'turtle affair' was even made an issue in electoral tactics in 1969-1970" (Schulz, 1975).

The basis of Kali'na disagreement included their challenge to the notion that turtle popula­tions were decreasing, that compensation was too low, and that they did not want interference in their territory. Anthropologist Kloos (1971,

cited in Schulz, 1975), however, found that more was at stake and that the issue of money was not as important as the issue of freedom. Only a small number of individuals participated in

olive ridley egg collecting and were to be af­fected by the ban, but the issue became impor­tant for all Kali'nas. Meetings held around the creation of the nature reserve became hostile, and threats of violence were made, in spite of Kali'na cultural preferences to avoid open disagreement. Although the Kali'nas eventually yielded to offi­cial regulations, Kloos believed the process was misunderstood. The conservation project re­mained incompatible-and ultimately irreconcil­able-with Kali'na visions of freedom, but as the Kali'nas and their leaders continued to yield to official pressure, officials failed to understand this problem. This yielding was linked to the cultural preference to avoid open disagreement, a prefer­ence that also meant Kali'na dissatisfaction with their leaders was hidden from officials.

Schulz (1975) concluded that, regardless of their reasons, the Kali'nas cooperated with the conservation program beginning in 1970. His ac­count of this process highlights two important is­sues. First, a more complete understanding of the culture of the Kali'na people from the outset could have avoided some of the problems experi­enced in the initial stages of the project and may have changed the entire approach of the govern­ment in creating the project. Kali'na values of

'1!eedom might have been better accommodated if Kali'na leadership had been involved initially and consulted in the establishment of the plan. Second, Schulz's summary highlighted the lim­ited use to which the results of social science re­search are sometimes put. Schulz was interested in explanations of Kali'na dissatisfaction, but as the ultimate goal of ensuring Kali'na cooperation with the ban on olive ridley egg collecting was eventually secured, his interest waned. What Schulz did not discuss were the ramifications of these events for the Kali'na people. For example, the effects of the challenge to Kali'na leadership and the erosion of freedom were unexplored. These issues are both of general interest to the an­thropologist but also could have had further long­term implications for conservation efforts.

Discussion and Conclusions

Given the limited research on the human aspects of use of sea turtles in general and olive ridleys specifically, it is not surprising that the research

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41

described above is in the form of case studies. Case study research is common in social sci­ences, particularly when one is trying to under­stand contextualized problems about which lit­tle is known. The case studies discussed here provide data that can be used to understand spe­cific scenarios and inform the design of conser­vation or development interventions. For exam­ple, further research similar to that of Arauz Almengor et al. (2001) could identify remain­ing problems with Ostional egg distribution and pricing and shape policies designed to ad­dress these, Case-specific information can advise against the application of 'blind" theory. For ex­ample, eliminating intermediaries is theoreti­cally a good way to increase rents retained by lo­cal people (Hope, 2002), but in the case of Nicaragua, it would be politically difficult if not inappropriate (Stewart, 2001).

One of the weaknesses of case studies is that they provide a snapshot in time, and the specific details can change (e.g., numbers of people in­volved in harvesting, the laws guiding harvest­ing). Another shortcoming relates to the site specificity of findings. For example, Hope (2002)

compared egg harvesting in Costa Rica favor­ably with that in Nicaragua, but it is clear that the Costa Rica model is not directly transferable. For one thing, the number of people involved varies; approximately 220 people from one vil­lage have rights to harvest in Ostional, versus 600 families from 8 villages in Playa La Flor and 1,070 people from 17 villages in Chacocente. Al­though it is not impossible that 17 communities could cooperatively manage a commercial egg harvest, the structure of such management would undoubtedly look different from what is in place at Ostional. Nevertheless, there are les­sons to be learned in contrasting case studies. For example, Hope argued that one of the rea­sons Ostional fared better than Nicaragua is the larger proportion of rents retained by collectors. The objective of increasing rents for collectors (while keeping the powerful traders in mind) could be pursued in Nicaragua.

With the strengths and weaknesses of case study research kept in mind, findings from the site­specific research contain several general themes:

• Legal frameworks were important in sev­eral case studies, some of them supporting con­

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Human Use of Olive Ridleys

servation (Costa Rica) and some confusing the situation (Nicaragua, Mexico). Campbell (1998),

Hope (2002), and Trinidad and Wilson (2000) all promote implementation of legal frameworks to guide use and establish community partiCipa­tion in decisionmaking in order to maximize in­centives for conservation and socioeconomic benefits.

• The economic value of olive ridleys to com­munities was a focus in many of the case studies (Lagueux, 1991; Campbell, 1998; Trinidad and Wilson, 2000; Hope, 2002). However, absolute values are only one piece of information needed to understand incentives for use, and perhaps not the most important. Relative monetary value compared to other livelihood activities, contributions to cash versus subsistence income, economic return on effort expended, and sea­sonality of livelihoods are other important is­sues to assess. If absolute monetary value of use is the only information collected, the overall value of use might be underestimated with dis­torted implications for both conservation and development. Furthermore, many of the case studies highlighted explicitly or implicitly the need to look beyond economic assessment. Po­litical (Stewart, 2001), social (Campbell, 1998),

cultural '(Schulz, 1975), and legal (Campbell, 1998; Trinidad and Wilson, 2000) structures pro­vide an important context for understanding use and conservation. Hope's (2002) economic analysis recognized how legal and social struc­tures influence economic incentives for conser­vation and act as incentives or disincentives on their own.

• Lack of alternative development opportu­nities was stressed in several studies (Campbell, 1998; Trinidad and Wilson, 2000; Stewart, 2001;

Hope, 2002), and conservationists interested in reducing stress on resources are often told to look for, promote, and even provide such alter­natives.. However, in almost all case studies, communities involved in the use of olive ridleys were marginalized economically, and in such scenarios, opportunities for income substitution through alternative activities may be limited. If people are living in poverty, the point at which income can be effectively substituted for (rather than added to) may be distant. If so, the ex­pressed willingness of people to reduce use if other opportunities become available (e.g., Trini­

42 LISA CAMPBELL

dad and Wilson, 2000) should be treated with caution. Ecotourism in particular was promoted (Arauz, 1996; Cocibolca, 1997; Trinidad and Wil­son, 2000; Hope, 2002) or existed (Campbell, 1999) as an alternative economic development strategy in several cases. Further research on ecotourism, the structure of the industry, the potential for local people to participate in it, and its compatibility with other economic activities is needed.

• Participation of local people and commu­nities influences conservation outcomes. With the exception of Ostional, Costa Rica, levels of participation by resource users in decision­making about conservation are deemed inade­quate in the case studies (Schulz, 1975; Arauz, 1996; Cocibo1ca, 1997; Stewart, 2001; Hope, 2002). Repercussions of this linkage varied; in Nicaragua, Stewart (2001) categorized beach in­vasions at Chacocente as an expression of rights that are mostly denied in the management regime, and Cocibolca (1997) suggested that in­creased participation would reduce specific con­flicts related to the presence of MARENA staff members, who were considered outsiders. In Ostional, Campbell (1998) concluded that com­munity participation was a critical component of socioeconomic sustainability in the egg­collecting project. These calls for participation reflect wider thinking about conservation (Western and Wright, 1994; Ghimire and Pim­bert, 1997; Agrawal and Gibson, 2001; Hulme and Murphree, 2001).

Ultimately, if lessons learned regarding the context of use are to contribute to conservation programs, they will have to be combined with bi­ological research. When the goal is sustainable use, there is limited utility in ensuring that profits from olive ridley use are equitably distributed if that use undermines the survival of the turtle population. Nevertheless, use, whether it con­tributes to conservation or threatens it, is ongoing in many parts of the world, and understanding the context of use is critical to managing it.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The author's research was supported by the Cana­dian Social Sciences and Humanities Research

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Council. I thank Matthew Godfrey, Randall Aram and Rob Hope for sharing documentation.

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